A Few of My Favorite (RV Life) Things

Plenty of people live in an RV for a season and then return home, and some people try it out for a while to see if they like it for several months. I tend to be an all-or-nothing person, and with just a few short trips under our belt after acquiring our fifth wheel in March, we rented out our home in North Carolina and commenced full-time RV life in June.

Red Bluff Rollercoaster: Our Trip on Route 36

This week we went on one of the craziest trips we’ve taken yet.

We left Medford, OR and arrived in Red Bluff, CA. It seemed such a shame to be so close to the West Coast and not see the Pacific Ocean and the redwood forests. So we decided to plan a long day to drive there, followed by a day of rest to recover.

It was only 140 miles or so, but the maps told us it would take over three hours because the mountain highways had lots of twists and turns. No problem; we can handle that.

However, these were not just your typical winding mountain roads. Oh, no. About 30 minutes in, we wondered when the rollercoaster ride would end. The constant turns were bad enough, but the road also shot up and, before you knew it, back down quite quickly – just like a rollercoaster, I tell you. We surmised that a tractor-trailer would high center on those hills. When the small, rolling, twisty hills with terrain that looked like a scene from the ranch on the original “Parent Trap” movie had worked their way up to the mountain passes, we thought we might get some relief. Although the hills had ceased, the twists and turns steadily grew worse, and as we went up and down mountains and followed switchback paths, we also saw that the edge of the road was frightening. Just inches away were deep drop-offs with steep ledges. Yikes. 

I had brought books to read and my computer, but it wasn’t long before I became too queasy to look down. I didn’t even crack the books. My oldest son was riding with my parents, and the two younger ones were with us, playing happily on iPads. I wondered if that was a good idea, but they said they felt fine. I personally was glad I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and I had no intentions of putting food in my stomach until this crazy carnival ride ended. I already felt like I had consumed far too much deep-fried food and then jumped on The Twister at the fair – and stayed on the ride for several hours.

We came upon some construction (which looked like a treacherous and nearly impossible job to do on this road), and just when the pilot car began leading us through the mess of workers and machinery, my 5-year-old said twice that he “so” needed to get out of the truck. We were all feeling that way, but that exact moment wouldn’t work, and he didn’t specify why he needed to exit.

Then it happened. He was looking down (at my iPad, no less) and suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach all over his clothes, booster seat, and the iPad (which at least is protected with an Otterbox case, but still.) We pulled over as soon as possible, and I cleaned up the best I could. Gone are the days of needing a diaper bag and bringing along an extra sets of clothes, so I promised to buy another shirt somewhere. As I looked around at the other passengers of both vehicles, I realized we were all pale of face and white of knuckle. And we weren’t even halfway.

I tried to ignore the puke smell and enjoy the scenery, which really did have a rugged beauty. If I had been plopped there blindfolded, I never would have guessed I was in California. I didn't have the presence of mind or stomach to take many photos but managed a few from my phone now and then.

We saw very few people. Forget finding a town, store, or gas station where we could get out, use a bathroom, and walk around. When I did see a gas station once, it looked run down but boasted unleaded fuel for the modest price of $4.89 per gallon. That’s an entrepreneur if ever I saw one.

We passed a couple of areas with campers and tents that looked like they might be gypsy camps or hippie communes. At one place where we stopped to stretch and calm our churning stomachs, we saw a couple emerge from the woods, and they were speaking a foreign language that sounded European, which wasn’t very reassuring since we had begun to suspect that we might have ended up in another country accidentally.

Well, at long last we made it to the beach. In total, it took us four hours, but we got to show our kids the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and we even saw a seal bobbing in the waves. The sun, the sand, and the waves were perfect. It was our dog’s first time at the ocean, and we all laughed at the way he barked when the waves came in as if he were being chased and must attempt to scare off his would-be attacker.

We debated not moving again for a couple of hours, but we were too close to the Avenue of the Giants not to drive down through at least part of this famous stretch of redwoods. The boys were astounded, and my husband had also never seen these majestically towering trees. We didn’t regret coming.

But we still had to make the trip back.

Driving four hours to spend less than an hour at the beach, drive for 30 more minutes, and spend less than an hour in a redwood forest, only to turn around and drive the four hours back, at that moment seemed like insanity. We debated looking for hotels, but we knew the drive home would look no better the next morning. Better to get it over with.

If we thought a twisty road with steep drop-offs and incredibly fast elevation changes was bad in the daytime, we were in for a treat: It’s even worse at night, with deer popping out from around corners with the path ahead shrouded in darkness. Yet just before darkness came some breathtaking views.

When we finally pulled up in front of our home-sweet-RV, my middle son sighed and proclaimed, “When I grow up, I am never taking my kids on that trip!”

It didn’t take long to decide that one day of rest wouldn’t be enough to recuperate. We extended our stay an extra day, and my husband and I even booked massages, an available amenity at the Durango RV Resort.

We told a few locals that we had taken Route 36 from Red Bluff to Fortuna, and we got some interesting looks and comments.

“You’re brave! The 36?” (That’s how Californians refer to their highways.) “Betcha didn’t take the RV down that road!”

“That’s the growers’ paradise.” (Growers, as in, you know, a different kind of weed … which might explain the “camps” we saw.)

“Who threw up? Someone always throws up.”

“Lived here my life and won’t ever take that route.”

Well, buddy, I can assure you that I won’t ever take that route again. There are other ways to the Pacific Ocean and redwood forests, and we will find them because we will make the time to do so.

I Googled “Route 36 California” a couple of days later and was amused by the comments I found:

“Most likely the craziest elevation changes you will ever see. Truly resembles a rollercoaster in spots.”

“Lots of places without guardrails, and long drops, so be careful!!! Every road will seem very trivial after you ride this.”

“This road will have you going up a hill, making a right at the top, and before you can even see over the crest, as you’re still turning right, the road goes left.”

“This is a road to stay alert on and not become over confident.”

“It was an amazing 140 miles of twisties, hairpin turns, periodic straight-aways and scenic views (or so my wife told me) as you won't have much time to look around.”

“Prepared for that queasy feeling you get after four solid hours of a rollercoaster ride.”

“You will never be so happy to make it to the coast and relax after this one.”

“After this, every road is easier.”

That sums it up pretty well. So, was it worth it? That day or the next, I might have said no. As the misery of the drive wears off, and all I have left are some amazing photographs (and an iPad that smells faintly of vomit), I’m happy that we went. I’m grateful to my husband for making it happen. 

Take a look for yourself. What do you think?

Full-Timing: The First Day

Life – life is this precious gift, and plans are just these things we make that can be undone in a solitary moment as time marches on and the world keeps turning and most people go on living this life, taking it for granted, forgetting its fragile state and changeable nature.

Rainy Day

Today is the second full day of our second RV trip, and it’s raining cats and dogs. There’s water, water, everywhere, and wind, too. We have muddy puddles all around us, and steady streams are cascading from the awnings of our slides ... and apparently some trash is blowing onto our site.

We knew we would have days like this. After all, this is spring in North Carolina. Our oldest is disappointed that we can’t go hiking, but overall the kids are taking it pretty well. We knew this was coming, so they spent most of the day yesterday playing outside, and we came prepared.

What to do on a rainy day at a campground? First of all, give thanks that we are in an RV. I well remember a very rainy camping trip ... with three smaller boys ... in a tent. We made the most of it then, too, with card games and coloring books, and finally we resorted to driving to the nearest town to eat at a restaurant just to have four walls around us and a roof over our dry heads while we enjoyed hot food. This time, we have all the comforts of home.

So, we play games ...

and color ...

and eat ...

and play with toys ...

and do laundry ...

and watch movies ...

and pull out the reading material ...

and enjoy some coffee ...

and maybe take some photos and write a fairly boring blog post. Oh, and at some point I need to clean. Yeah, you know, pretty much what we do on a rainy day at home, except at home I have much more to distract, more places to be, people to see, things to do in and out of the house.

No need to worry about us or think that we might be bored or in any way suffering due to inches of water raining on our camping parade. I’m getting the opportunity to practice what I quoted on my Facebook timeline yesterday: 

“Time’s this precious currency, and only the slow spend it wisely enough to be rich. If we actually had to buy our time, would we spend it more wisely -- spend it more slowly? (God’s Word never says ‘Hurry up.’ God’s words only whisper: ‘Wake up.’)” --Ann Voskamp

I know at home the words “Hurry up!” are too often on my lips. I don’t always spend my time wisely or well. I don’t have babies anymore, and my children will be “littles” only a little while longer. Before I know it, I’ll have three teenage boys on my hands. I’ll be grasping at snatches of their childhood, realizing it will soon be gone ... forever. That’s why I wanted to do this RV thing now -- getting away from some of that which distracts and causes me to forget to spend my time slowly and wisely, forcing ourselves to disconnect and unplug and get into nature, reminding me to hold tightly to the child who wants to sit in my lap because soon he’ll be bigger than I.

Sometimes we need a good rain to wash away the excess, clean up, and nourish the land for new life and growth. Today’s rain is giving me the chance to clean up the clutter and excess in my soul, and I’m allowing space for the Lord to nourish me, gently remind me of truths that often get drowned out by so much life noise, and breathe some new life into my family as we grow closer through quality time, laughter, and snuggles. So bring on the rain. The sun will shine again, and we’ll play and hike and appreciate it even more. 

Crossroads: The Adventure Begins

My school boys in the fall of 2012

In the fall of 2012, I was filling out some papers to register our home school with the state. Since North Carolina requires a home school to register as a private school, I had to decide on a name for our school. My husband, as usual, didn’t get caught up in the process and logically stated that it really didn’t matter since no one else would ever know what we called our school. I, as usual, belabored the point and wrote out a list of at least 20 potential names. I wanted our oldest son to have the opportunity to weigh in, and he got quite excited about being involved. As we discussed the purpose and heart of our school (including a mission statement that I wrote, of course), my son was adamant that the word “cross” be a part of the name. (He has been keenly aware of Jesus and the meaning of His cross from an early age.) I kept dwelling on the adventure and journey aspects of a home-school education. Naturally, I became too wordy and thought up some cumbersome names, but along the way I tossed out “crossroad.” I decided it was too simple or generic or something, but my son fixated on it and would not be moved. He even drew a picture of a cross that looked like a path and had a stick-figure man walking across it. Thus “Crossroad Academy” was born.

Me, working my biz

Fast forward: In November of 2014, a crazy dream came true. A business I had been building for about a year and a half had grown to the point that my husband could quit his mentally stressful, time-consuming job, retiring at the ripe old age of 36. I had just finished reading Jen Hatmaker’s books 7: An Experimental Mutiny on Excess and Interrupted, so I was feeling like God had turned my American/consumerism mind-set upside down for at least the tenth time in my life. Whereas several months earlier this dream-come-true would have meant a larger house with a big piece of land, I was feeling less comfortable with that idea by the day. Instead of thinking “more,” the themes of “LESS!” and “DECREASE!” were screaming in my head. That isn’t to say that we still may not have a larger home on a big piece of land one day or that anything is wrong with that, but God was testing my heart and motives and whispering to me that we were entering a season of “less IS more.” I just wasn’t sure what that meant.

My parents had planned a visit at the end of November, and we had a wonderful 10 days with them. My dad discussed retirement often since he was looking at entering that phase of life in less than a year. My Montana family has always loved camping and the outdoors, and my parents have owned a camper or fifth wheel for as long as I can remember. They have hoped to be able to take an RV around the country upon retirement, and we naturally hoped that would entail more frequent and longer trips to North Carolina. However, somewhere in my heart an idea started to form. I didn’t even dare to put it into words yet, but if I had it might have sounded like, “What if we go with them?” 

My parents near Bodie Lighthouse

December brought Christmas and a wonderful visit from my husband’s parents from Texas, so I didn’t dwell on these thoughts long. We even discussed with them the idea of land and finding or building a house. We had intended to keep Christmas gifts small and simple in keeping with “less is more,” but as is often the case, things got out of hand. At one point during the opening of gifts, I noted under my breath that we were “feeding the machine” (of consumerism). I didn’t think anyone except my husband could hear me, but my father-in-law looked shocked and kidded me that I wouldn’t live that down because it seemed so uncharacteristic. I couldn’t begin to explain the central themes of 7 and Interrupted during Christmas gift-opening time.

Christmas 2014

After the dust had settled from holidays and visitors and the new year rolled around, I began thinking more about what a simplified life would mean for our family. My husband was enjoying his newfound freedom but also seemed restless and unsettled. I knew he needed a goal, a plan, and a purpose outside of helping me with the house and the children so I could work my business more efficiently. I sympathized completely because I had wanted to find complete fulfillment in being a housewife and home-school mom but couldn’t shake the urge to help others and also have a purpose and plans outside my family. Thus my business had been born from a love for all things natural health, a desire to help others, and my goal-driven tendencies. Men tend to find their purpose in a career, and I could see that my husband needed to find some fulfilling work or projects very soon.

I had been praying about an answer but one was not readily apparent to me. Then one day in January, I blurted out very suddenly to my husband (with very little forethought, which is quite unlike me), “What if we got an RV and traveled around the country for a year?” 

As soon as I said it, I wondered, “Did I really just say that?”

My husband and I both love to travel and had discussed how wonderful it would be to take the boys to landmarks and museums related to their studies, but never before had an RV come into the picture. Looking back, I don’t think we ever really believed we would have the financial freedom required to live in such a way.

“You would do that?” my husband replied in partial disbelief. I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or be offended. Did he think his adventurous young wife who had traveled the world and loved new places had changed so very much in 17 years?

And that’s how it started. Once I affirmed my willingness to go forward and thought through how I could work my business remotely, my husband sprang to action, researching every RV option, reading blogs, and watching YouTube videos about RV families. Everything seemed to move quickly, and I can’t help but wonder if he intentionally worked fast because he knows my tendency to second-guess every decision and change my mind frequently. A little more than a month after the first mention of “RV,” we were purchasing one, and I have to admit a part of me wanted to wait longer, plan more, and think it through more thoroughly. I’m glad now that my husband forged ahead.

Our RV on our first trip

Somewhere along the way, it dawned on me that Crossroad Academy was about to become a “road school.” I had to smile. We had faced many crossroads during the previous few years, and we always sought God’s will. How very appropriate, and how very like my Creator who well knows my love for words and the rich meaning they give to life. He knew our school would hit the road three and a half years ago when I had a 6-year-old, 4-year-old, and 2-year-old and could no more have imagined living in an RV with them than I could have imagined that I would be teaching people how to use essential oils for a living in a matter of just a couple of years. 

A view from the campsite of our first RV trip

Today is Good Friday of 2015. I’m writing this on the patio of our RV, watching and listening to a mountain creek rushing and bubbling past while the sun slowly sets over my left shoulder. There’s a slight breeze, and I’m breathing crisp, clean mountain air mixed with the faint scent of campfire. My heart is so full that my eyes are welling up, and I have a deep sense that yes, we did the right thing. Soon we’ll be purging most of our belongings and storing the rest. Our house, which we’ve been working on diligently, will become a rental. We’ll be traveling all over the country, promoting my business and helping my team while also visiting family and friends, enjoying nature, and seeing landmarks my children have only heard of. We’ll still have a schedule since I will plan team events and classes regularly, but we will also have much flexibility. We originally thought this lifestyle would last a year, but we’re already considering that we may really need two years. We’ll have to see how we all adjust, but for now the timeframe remains open-ended. We’re ending our inaugural trial run in the RV, but the adventure is just beginning.

Embracing the adventure